blood.
His elbow, Quinn realized. He kneeled down next to the man and felt for a pulse. It was there, but faint, and disappearing fast. The man was bleeding out.
Quinn yanked the laces from Furuta’s shoes. He used one for each leg, tying them tightly around the thighs just above the damaged knees. He knew it was futile, but he had to try. As he searched for something he could use on the man’s arm, Furuta’s eyes opened.
“Hold on, buddy,” Quinn said.
He pulled off one of Furuta’s socks, but before he could wrap it around Furuta’s bicep, the man stopped him.
“Who are … you?” Furuta whispered.
“Peter sent me. I’m here to get you out.”
“No … your name.”
“Quinn.”
Furuta actually smiled.
“Just be quiet and let me get you patched up.”
“Too tired,” Furuta said. “Won’t… work.”
The man’s eyes drifted shut as Quinn tightened the sock around Furuta’s arm. He then stood up and moved back into the small hallway.
“Nate, I’m going to need your help.”
“Where are you?”
Quinn gave him directions. “Have the others passed your position?”
“Two minutes ago. No noise in the hallway now.”
“Okay. Be careful. I don’t think there’s very many of them, but there’s enough.”
“Copy that.”
Quinn pulled out his phone. Full signal strength. There was definitely some sort of antenna set up throughout the facility.
He didn’t want to make this call, but he had no choice now.
The call rang only once before it was picked up.
“Where are you?” Orlando said.
Quinn hesitated. “Inside Yellowhammer.”
He could tell she wanted to say more, but was holding back.
“I need your help.”
“Tell me.”
The shift was amazing. From pissed to all business in a split second. She was a pro, after all, though Quinn knew at some point in the near future pissed would make a harsh return.
He told her where he’d left the car, then gave her a quick overview of the outside area surrounding Yellowhammer.
“I’ll be there in thirty,” she said, then hung up.
Quinn stepped back into the room and checked Furuta’s pulse again. Still weak.
“Hey,” he said as he moved Furuta’s chin back and forth. “I think maybe you should try to stay awake.”
The man’s eyes remained closed.
Quinn slapped him, not too hard, but enough to sting. “Wake up.”
This time Furuta’s eyelids peeled open.
“Stay awake, okay?” Quinn said.
“Losing… it,” Furuta said. His eyes closed, but then opened again. “Other one.”
“What?”
“Other one… tapped.” His hand twitched on the floor. “Tapped … other one.”
He tried to move his head, his eyes turning upward like he was looking at something beyond him.
“Other one,” he repeated.
This time when his eyes closed, they didn’t reopen. Quinn felt for a pulse, but there was none. Too much blood on the floor, and not enough still in the veins. Kevin Furuta was dead.
“Goddammit,” Quinn said.
He’d known this was going to happen. He’d known the moment he’d seen Furuta’s shattered body. But that didn’t make it any easier.
He closed his eyes and thought for a moment. Maybe it would be best to get the hell out of there. The main reason they’d entered the facility was lying dead at Quinn’s feet. They’d learned enough already for Peter to mobilize a full-on assault. There was little more Quinn could do without increasing the chance of discovery. Maybe it was time to—
The latch to the main corridor door groaned. Quinn ducked into the corner of cell number one. He could hear someone step into the hallway, then close the door behind them.
“Quinn?” The voice was a whisper.
Quinn stepped around the opening to the cell and found Nate standing a few feet away.
Nate gave him a nod, but showed no other reaction.
“Any problems?” Quinn asked.
“No one. Very quiet.”
Quinn was beginning to think all of Tucker’s people were helping this Mr. Rose he’d heard the Australian talk about and were somewhere else in the facility.
Nate looked past Quinn into the cell. “That him?”
Quinn nodded.
“They really messed him up, didn’t they?”
“He’s dead.”
“He’s … son of bitch. Do we still take him with us?”
Quinn looked back through the door at the body. “No. We can’t ri—”
He stopped himself.
Glancing to his right, he could see the two other cell doors. Numbers two and three.
He approached the door to cell number two.
“What are you doing?” Nate asked.
Quinn held up a hand to silence him, then pulled out his gun again. Carefully he released the door’s latch and pushed it open. The only light inside was that which spilled in from the hallway, but it was enough for him to see the room was empty.
He moved over to cell three.
“Pull out your flashlight,” he said to Nate.
He waited until his apprentice had the light on, then he repeated what he had done with the previous door.
Only, unlike cell number two, there was someone there.
CHAPTER 32
Marion barely registered the hallway door opening for the third time. She’d moved into the corner farthest from the door, and had curled against herself. If anyone was talking, she didn’t hear. She just rocked back and forth, her mind searching for someplace happy, something to help her forget.
Ice skating with her family as a girl. The school trip she’d taken to New York when she was in high school. Kissing Reynard Moreau in an empty math classroom. He had been more nervous than she. She could remember feeling him shake even as his lips touched hers.
